


John's jumper

by advictim



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Johnlock - Freeform, Jumpers, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Short One Shot, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advictim/pseuds/advictim
Summary: Sherlock sulks around in John's jumper, because John is away.





	John's jumper

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this drawing](http://johnnybooboo.tumblr.com/post/77895186685/sherlock-sitting-sulking-around-in-johns) of Sherlock sitting (sulking) around in John's sweater by deni on my tumblr dash and it inspired me to write this little ficlet. It's my first try for this fandom and it's not brit picked or betaread. Critique is welcome and appreciated, either for style, characterization or grammar mistakes.

John left, and Sherlock was so miserable he wanted to rip his skin off. It was not the suffocating dark unhappiness of boredom, when he could either shout, shoot walls, or brood contemplating the pointlessness of it all. No, it was a very different feeling. Sherlock felt like something vital was taken away from him, but that was preposterous, because he never really even had it, and yet, Sherlock felt betrayed. How could John do this to him? What could possibly be as important or interesting as just being here?

The conference, _pfft_. Those morons attending could not tell their noses from their asses on a bright day, certainly John had nothing to gain there. Three whole days, John will die of boredom, and then what will Sherlock do? There had to be a way to get John back. Honestly, it would be merciful to save him from the tediousness, but John turned his phone off and Sherlock was not going ask for help from Mycroft. Sherlock just had to wait and he hated waiting, despised it even in the best of occasions and this was obviously not one. When John left, Sherlock was focused on one of his experiments, but as soon as the door closed, the emptiness of the flat started gnawing at him. It felt different from the times John left for one of his silly errands he insisted on having. There was no use in pretending to experiment or, to be honest, do anything, because all his thoughts kept turning back to the fact that John was not here, and it was becoming exhausting.

At first he passed the time smoking excessively and shouting for Mrs. Hudson to bring him tea. She wisely ignored that. Those activities soon lost their appeal and he wandered around the flat aimlessly trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to survive another day, when he found one of John’s jumpers, draped casually on the back of the chair. Sherlock grabbed the offending garment with the intention of flinging it across the room with all the vengeance he could muster, but as soon as he took it, he couldn’t let go. A fresh wave of longing hit him and he flopped gracelessly in John‘s chair, fighting the urge to smell the jumper in the hope of some comfort. He was not a teenage with a crush, for god‘s sake. Still, the need to contain his longing somehow was so strong, he almost absent mindedly put the jumper on and pulled his knees to his chest. The jumper did smell of John and that made Sherlock angry, but anger was easier to bear than yearning, so he stayed that way. Infinitely, it seemed.

Sherlock was so lost in his mind he didn’t hear the door open until John was standing in front of him. John was not supposed to be here for another twelve hours, and Sherlock looked up at him, startled.

“Hey,” greeted John. He looked tired and a little sad, for some reason. “I’ve ditched the last –” continued John before taking a good look at Sherlock. “Wait, is that my jumper?”

“No! Yes.” Sherlock jumped up from the chair, panicking. “It was cold!”

“It’s alright, Sherlock,” said John and he stopped looking so sad and tired. He even started smiling. Sherlock relaxed a little, but instead of going to the kitchen to make tea, John came closer. Worst of all, he started giggling.

“Are you laughing at me?!” Sherlock was mortally offended. “Please refrain from mocking –”

“No, Sherlock, no! Sorry,” John was still letting out an odd giggle as he put his arms around Sherlock’s waist. “Can’t you see? Me too!”

“What are you going on about?” fussed Sherlock as his own arms lifted to circle John’s shoulders before Sherlock even realised he was doing that.

“I’ve missed you too, you idiot,” said John as he pulled Sherlock in a tight embrace. “Missed you so much I skipped the last day so I could be home sooner.”

“Oh,” was all Sherlock managed to say before he let himself be immersed in the feeling of John. John’s hair tickled Sherlock’s nose, his warmth seeped in even through clothes and those strong hands held firmly, grounding Sherlock so he wouldn’t float through the ceiling with relief. It was so wonderful, Sherlock seriously contemplated never letting go.

After a while John started squirming a little, so Sherlock reluctantly loosened his embrace, already feeling the loss. Except that John didn’t go anywhere. He looked up, sighed softly, tiptoed and kissed Sherlock firmly on the lips. That, Sherlock had to admit, was a vast improvement on the already acceptable situation.

 

John still insisted going away from time to time, and on a few memorable occasions, Sherlock was the one who had to leave. It wasn’t easier _per se_ , but it was much better when there was a joy of coming back to think of. And Sherlock was allowed to borrow John’s clothes then – those hideous jumpers were positively made for sulking in.


End file.
